Ryan is away in Italy, and his wife Julia is having complications with her pregnancy. I hated putting him on the spot like that. He implored me to call Mom, but I can’t. She’s been planning mine and Ian’s wedding since we were in kindergarten.
To her, our relationship is perfect, and on the outside, it looks that way. At first it was, but slowly over time Ian turned into someone quite different. It happened slowly.A harsh word there, a derogatory comment there, until it turned into daily criticism of everything I do. His tempers are swift and harsh, and I found myself creeping around the house, not wanting to say anything to upset him.
In the office he was different, charming and well-liked, but at home I saw the real Ian, the one I couldn’t tell anyone about. The mood swings, the temper, and the fear always bubbling under the surface that he could turn violent.
He’s the golden boy, the son of my parent’s best friends. The up and coming young millionaire set to take over the family business before he’s thirty.
On paper he’s a catch. Behind closed doors, he’s a mean psychological bully who’s worn away my self-esteem over the three years we’ve been dating.
I thought things would improve once the baby came along, but they got worse. His angry outbursts got more erratic and the hint of violence more present.
Two days ago, during an argument over nothing more than what the party favors should be at the wedding, he threw his drink at me. The glass hit the wall just behind my head. I’m not sure if he aimed to miss or if he meant to hit me with it. I was nursing Cody at the time and the tumbler shattered, sending sharp shards of glass over both of us.
I thought I could live with a man who got angry sometimes, but picking shards of glass out of the hair of my four-week-old baby was the wake up call I needed.
Ian walked out, and I called Ryan and finally cameclean about the monster I’ve been living with. He made some calls and hooked me up with Maggie. Her husband is part of the Wild Riders motorcycle club, and they run a women’s refuge in the mountains.
Only it’s full, since apparently Ian isn’t the only one who turns into a mega asshole at this time of year. So here I am on Christmas Day, staying in one of the spare rooms of a motorcycle club. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
But the people I’ve met here so far seem nice. Arlo, Maggie’s husband, called around, and by the time I arrived there was a bassinet, diapers, baby toys, and clothing waiting for me.
Someone made up a bed in a spare room, and I fell into a fitful sleep late last night with Cody waking up every few hours fussing at the unfamiliar surroundings.
I want to stay in this room and hide, but I need to say thank you to the women who pooled together to get me the things I need.
I take a deep breath and give Maggie a shaky smile. “I’ll come down.”
Maggie puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe here, Isla, and everyone is friendly. You’re under the protection of the club now.”
Under the protection of the club. Her words make me shiver. I don’t know these men; I don’t know what they’re into. But Ryan wouldn’t have sent me here if it wasn’t safe.
“Come on.” Maggie hustles me toward the door and I follow.
A few hours later, I’m seated at the long table that is made up of smaller tables pushed together. The meal was excellent, the most I’ve eaten for days, and I’m drowsy.
I barely spoke to anyone all night. I’ve kept my focus on Cody and making sure he has what he needs. There are a lot of kids here. It’s more family oriented than I thought an MC would be. The women are kind and the men are terrifying. Lots of beards and tattoos, although some of them are clean-shaven and very much the ex-military men that Maggie’s explained they all are. A motorcycle club full of veterans. No wonder Ryan thought I’d be safe here.
Across the table from me sits the man in the wheelchair who was in the gym when I first arrived. I try not to look at him as I feed Cody.
When I arrived yesterday, exhausted from the train, he was a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. His muscular body was sweaty with exertion as he pushed himself to the limit.
I long to ask him what happened to his legs, but it wouldn’t be polite. Besides, he’s not spoken to me, not like some of the other men who have politely asked about the baby. They’re new fathers, proud to tell me about their own little ones and offer advice on why Cody might be crying so much.
I know why he’s crying so much. Because he senses his mother’s unease.
I’ve kept my head down, and they probably think it’sbecause I’m furtive and scared, but it’s not. I’m so damn embarrassed to be in this situation.
I grew up with all the advantages of life: two parents with good jobs, a beautiful home in a nice neighborhood, in a wealthy country. I have a college education and a professional job. I’ve had every advantage; I should be kicking it at life. And yet, I still ended up here, a single mom on the run with no idea what her future holds.
If I told the carefree Isla of a few years ago that she’d be spending Christmas with her baby in a refuge after escaping an emotionally abusive relationship, I wouldn’t have believed myself. I’m so embarrassed I can’t look anyone in the eye.
Cody gives a yawn, and it sets me off. I haven’t been sleeping well with all the feeding and attention he needs and then the excitement of the last few days. It’s early, but I long to be upstairs on our own.
I stand up and catch Maggie’s eye. “I’m going up to bed.”
I’ve already been told they won’t let me help with the clearing up. There’s a lot of fuss made over new mothers here, and I’m grateful. I can concentrate on caring for my baby and getting him what he needs. Right now, what he needs is for both of us to get some sleep.
I hold Cody close and cross the room.
